Fool For Love
by VegasGirl09
Summary: "I stare into the endless sky, And I saw a tale of my life go by, I drift into the great unknown, I really don't know where I'm going" Russell notices some subtle changes in his blood whisperer.


_Summer 2015_

As an investigator, observing things was a necessary skill. As a supervisor for a team of investigators, it was also Russell's job to keep an eye on his people. He had the best of the best. They made his job much easier with their hard work and camaraderie. When he almost lost Julie to that violent attack and coma, he became nervous that she would not be able to use her brilliant mind like before. He spent hours with her in the hospital, from the time she woke up to the time she was released, watching and assisting her, when she would let him, with therapy. Walking, driving, processing information, every single basic skill was tested rigorously over and over, exhausting her mentally and physically until the doctors and therapists deemed her well enough to be on her own again.

But things were different. She would never admit it, but he knew. He could see it in her eyes, the way she looked at him with a worried expression whenever they had a case that might indicate another serial killer. He noted the way she stayed close to him or whomever she was paired up with, at crime scenes, hovering close to be near someone in case the unthinkable happened again. She would jump if someone spoke to her after a long period of silence. She no longer wore headphones when she worked in the lab. She sat facing the doorway of any room she occupied, not wanting to have her back turned in case someone snuck up on her.

She squinted when she read case notes, lab reports or any small writing. He suggested an eye exam which she refused profusely claiming she was not "old". But one day at the start of shift, he spotted her in the locker room, facing the mirror she stuck up inside her locker, adjusting dark brown frames on her face, making scoffs of disapproval at her new accessory. He told her she looked great which earned him an eye roll followed by a small smile.

Last week, they got caught up in a violent thunderstorm that descended on the city. They took shelter in the car until it passed but he couldn't help but watch as she curled up in the passenger seat, jumping, startled when the thunder echoed around them, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see the vivid flashes of lightning. He could only wonder what was going on in her head.

And then one night he found her asleep on his tiny couch in his office, curled up with a pile of case notes surrounding her. He wondered why she didn't just clock out and go home. But he knew, home didn't feel safe to her anymore. So, he found a small blanket from the storage closet, draped it over her and let her be.

The headaches started in July. It was scorching hot most of the day and they had spent hours in that hot sun, processing a scene. She kept rubbing her forehead in continuous irritated motions. When they took a break for water and food, she leaned back in the passenger seat of their SUV, placing the cool water bottle on her aching head and sighing. She snarled at the mere suggestion that she go home and rest. She was still stubborn, that was something that had not changed.

It wasn't until she showed up at his house one night; shaking terribly, eyes filled with tears did she finally allow him to help her. He guided her into their spacious living room filled with comfy couches and chairs, soft pillows and warm blankets. Barbara made them tea, lavender to help her relax. She curled up on the couch with the pillow and the grey soft cotton blanket she had used on previous nights here when she fell asleep during one of their dinner parties or after rounds of kickball with Charlie, Maya and Katie.

"I'm scared," she whispered, finally admitting it to them what he knew all along

"I know Jules," he soothed.

"You should stay here tonight sweetie," Barbara suggested.

Julie nodded but wasn't ready to try and sleep yet. The images of Winthrop still haunted her mind when she closed her eyes. She was content to stay on the couch for a little while longer, mulling over her thoughts and wondering how to deal with them and if the nightmares would ever end. The longer she sat there, cradling the hot mug of tea with both hands to prevent them from shaking, a relatively new intrusive thought pushed its way into her continuously aching brain. She didn't notice Barbara and D.B come and go from the room, tending to random things in the kitchen, probably whispering about her and what to do. When Russell returned, resuming his place on the couch in front of her, he noticed her vague expression, and the way she was biting her lip.

"Jules," he whispered softly to her to get her attention.

"Yeah," she mumbled back.

"Do you want more tea?" he asked.

She shook her head, those curls moving fast as compared to how still she had been while lying in the hospital trapped in the coma.

"I'm fine," she recovered, feeling rude for the abrupt answer, "thanks though."

Russell continued to watch her, the way she lowered her tea mug back to the coffee table slowly with a trembling hand, how quickly she withdrew her hands from his sight, clasping them together so he wouldn't see her shake.

"When did that start?" he asked, recalling the various changes in her he observed over the last few months, rattled that he had somehow missed this one.

"At the hospital," she admitted, sniffling "when the nurses had me up and walking and I kept falling, I thought it was just my legs but when they got me back in bed, I reached for some water and it just fell over."

She scoffed, ending her tale before more tears fell.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Oh sure," she bit back "hey D.B, look what else that psycho took from me?"

She turned away now because the tears were building too fast for her to stop.

Russell sat up to see her better and said "You know this stuff is not your fault, every patient is different, Dr. King told you, its just part of recovery Jules, it's going to get better."

Whatever," she snapped, moving to get up from the couch now "tell Barbara I said thanks."

"Whoa, hey, what are you doing?" he stopped her, standing up to face her "if you're scared, you need to be here, with us."

"I can't do this to you guys," Julie said "not every night, it's weird, I'm not a child, I should be able to take care of myself."

She started walking away, up the small indent in the floor that separated the living room from the hallway.

"There's something else, isn't there?" he called out to her making her freeze in her tracks.

"It's more than just headaches and nightmares and new glasses," he continued, listing all the things that had plagued her since the coma.

The longer she stood there, with her back turned to him, the more obvious she was being that she was indeed hiding something. After years of friendship and camaraderie, she wanted to trust him with this but these intrusive thoughts were unlike any others she had previously. She turned back to face him, her socks making her feet slide on the tile floor since her shoes were currently stationed on the welcome mat inside the foyer. In that moment of suspense, she felt like a child, a memory floating back to her of sliding around her kitchen in socks, driving her mother crazy and making her father laugh. Little bursts of memories such as those had come and gone from her subconscious since waking up in March. They did nothing to squash the darkness that hung over her brain.

"You can't laugh," she demanded, "promise me you won't."

"I promise," he said, holding up both hands, completely at her emotional mercy.

He lowered them a second later, motioning for her to return to her cozy spot on the couch. She allowed herself the short walk back to it, sinking down into the fluffy cushions.

"So, you know those stories about people who get hurt really bad and they are unconscious but still alive and they see stuff, you know like bright lights or hallucinations of people they knew who have died and when they wake up again in the hospital, they tell everyone, what's that called, out of body experience?" she struggled to explain.

"I've heard of it," Russell assured her, lowering himself back onto the opposite couch while she spoke, fearful she would bolt for the door at any moment.

"Well you know how those people, no matter how bad they got hurt, they always say the saw heaven and all that?" she continued, grabbing her index and middle finger and nervously twisting them with her hand "well, I was in that coma and, I didn't see anything, no lights, no people, nothing, just darkness, that's all I have."

"Did you want to see something?" he asked her.

"I don't know, maybe," she shrugged, still twisting her fingers together "it just got me thinking you know, we see people who have died everyday and we want to tell their families that they are in a better place but, I honestly don't think I can because, its not real, I was so close to death and saw nothing, and I know when it actually happens, that's all that will be there."

She spoke so calmly yet when she finished talking, she choked back a sob as if speaking her thoughts would offend him. But he was not offended, he was terrified. She was not presenting him with a difficult case file, she was giving him a run for his money with this. He feared he was not zen enough to answer her.

"Well Jules," he said, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes before placing the glasses back on "I don't know what to tell you."

"What?" she whimpered, her heart plummeting into her stomach at his generic response.

"This is deep," he continued "I don't want to say the wrong thing and confuse you even more, the truth is, I don't have an answer for you, maybe a therapist could-

"No!" she lashed out at him "you have to tell me, you always know what to say, you fix everything!"

Now she really felt like a helpless child. This moment of complete vulnerability shaking her to the core. He wanted her to talk and now he was refusing to give her an answer. 

Russell realized his bluff; here she was, trusting him with her deepest darkest secrets and he couldn't even offer her something to soothe her. He felt like a failure to her as her friend and as someone who cared about her more than she would ever know.

"All right," he said, hating to see her get riled up and shaky, bouncing her leg up and down "lets think about this logically okay? Maybe, you didn't see that stuff because it wasn't your time, you came back to us, that was endgame all along, and maybe, when it's really your time to go, God forbid, you'll see it and you'll know it will be okay to let go, those other people, sure, it wasn't their time either, but they saw it because they expected to see it, they still aren't ready to go yet, but they had some preconceived idea in their heads and it manifests into those visions, but you, science is what grounds you, so, no visions, how's that?"

She squinted at him, mulling over the explanation in her heart and her mind.

"Okay I guess," she concluded.

"Good," he sighed, relieved, covering his heart with one hand "boy you picked a real zinger of a conversation there Jules, how long has that been bouncing around in your head?"

"Too long," she admitted wiping her eyes with the back of her hand "sorry I scared you."

"Jules, I don't think a day will pass when you won't do that," he said shaking his head "now can you please get some sleep, Barbara will kill me for keeping you up this late."

She nodded, letting him walk her up to the spare room.

"Don't let those thoughts get to you," he offered one last piece of advice as he stood in the doorway "and I meant it, maybe you should work some of this stuff out with a therapist."

Julie bounced onto the bed, swinging her legs up, leaning back on the pillows and grinning smugly.

"Why would I need one of those when I have you?" she concluded.

That smirk she wore with such pride stabbed at his heart every time. He was going to be found dead one day and she would be the cause of his death. When his life flashed before his eyes, it would be her; the smile, the wild curls, the sass for miles, the heart of gold.

"Good night Jules," he let her go, enjoying that she was close. Truth be told, heaven was here, wherever she was, and he was not afraid to die.


End file.
